


Sweet Talk

by verbaepulchellae



Series: Hip To It [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Clarke and Bellamy are just stupidly in love, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fingering, Threesome - F/F/M, To no one's surprise, fantasy threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 08:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6898051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbaepulchellae/pseuds/verbaepulchellae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do you think would have happened,” Bellamy mumbles after a moment, his lips catching against the sensitive skin of her neck. “If we’d brought that girl home?”</p><p> “I don’t know,” Clarke admits. “We probably would have fucked her and then fucked each other again when she left.”</p><p>“Mmm,” Bellamy hums into her skin and Clarke wiggles closer to him on the couch, slings her legs over his and scratches at his stomach under his shirt. “That’s hot,” Bellamy muses. “That’s really hot.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Talk

**Author's Note:**

> I told you guys I wasn't going to be able to give up writing about these jerks. 
> 
> This takes place a several months after where Picking Up What You're Laying Down concludes. You don't necessarily need to have read that first, but it might make more sense in that context.

The party is loud with their friends laughter and Nyko’s sound system murmuring soft beats that turn chatter into pleasant background noise. Clarke’s had a few beers and is flopped over Octavia and Raven on one of Nyko’s couches, half making plans for the rest of their weekend, but more focused on trying to sneak her hands under Raven’s shirt to tickle her. 

“Stop being a dick, Clarke,” Raven complains, catching Clarke’s wrist and holding it hostage against her leg. 

“You stop,” Clarke says, a little nonsensically and Raven rolls her eyes and leans down to press an obnoxiously wet kiss to Clarke’s cheek.

“You both stop,” Octavia mutters, but her hands are gentle in Clarke’s hair and she’s making eyes at Lincoln across the room, so she totally deserves it when both Clarke and Raven end up tickling her. “Ok, Ok,” Octavia gasps, wriggling and trying to escape their fingers. “Oh my god, Uncle.”

She slithers gracelessly onto the floor to get away from them and then frowns when Bellamy appears and steals her spot, grinning at her wolfishly. “Bell, I was sitting there.”

“Yeah, and now I am,” Bellamy goads her and pokes her with his toe. “Sorry, O.”

“You are the literal worst,” Octavia snaps but there’s no real heat behind it. “Clarke, tell him he’s the worst.”

Clarke looks up at Bellamy from where she’s flopped happily against his chest. “You’re the worst?” She offers and Bellamy tweaks her nose.

“Very convincing,” Raven says. “The delivery was a little lackluster, but I’m sure you’ll get it next time.”

“Aw, I bought it,” Bellamy assures Clarke, rubbing her arm. Clarke grins up at him and Octavia huffs dramatically from the floor even as she interlaces her fingers with Clarke’s.

“I can’t with either of you. Raven, I’m going to hijack the music, I’m tired of sad hipster beats. Want to be my diversion so I can get to the iPod?”

“And get away from these two? Yes,” Raven says and winks at Clarke as she gets up. “Bye, love birds.”

“Don’t break things we can’t pay for, O,” Bellamy calls after Octavia but he’s already shifting so that Clarke’s weight rests more comfortably in his lap and he drops a kiss into her hair. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Clarke says and reaches up to feel the stubble on his cheek. He rubs his jaw against the palm of her hand, giving her the soft scrape of it. Clarke smiles at him slow and curls her fingers fleetingly over Bellamy’s mouth. “How was your day?”

“Ah you know, lots of studying, not enough you.”

“You fucking sap,” Clarke laughs and leans up to get a kiss. “What are you drinking?”

“My drink,” Bellamy answers dryly and only puts up a fight for show when Clarke reaches for his cup. “You don’t even like vodka tonics,” he grumbles as Clarke successfully gets it away from him.

“I can’t believe you do,” Clarke mutters into the plastic cup and Bellamy just shakes his head, tangles his fingers in her hair and gives her a tug for her sass. 

Across the room, the door from the hallway opens to admit several girls arriving late to the party. Clarke half turns her head, distracted by the movement, and a tall, dark haired girl catches her attention. 

So Clarke has a type, that’s news to no one. And this girl, with her graceful shoulders and lanky, limber frame; her dark, wavy hair falling loose over her back and big, brown eyes framed by long eyelashes happens to fall right exactly on the bullseye of Clarke’s type. Clarke knows she’s staring and across the room, attention drawn by the feeling of Clarke’s eyes on her or the clatter of a dish breaking in the kitchen, the girl looks up and meets Clarke’s gaze. Clarke sees something spark in her eyes, sees the girl take in the picture they make: Bellamy with his splayed thighs and one arm resting along the back of the couch, his other hand in Clarke’s hair as she sprawls cat-like across him and that spark grows brighter. 

“You’re drooling Clarke,” Bellamy chuckles and when Clarke looks up at him, she finds his eyes on her, fond. “See someone you like?” He asks, smile soft on his mouth.

“Just a pretty girl,” Clarke tells him, running her tongue along her lower lip. “Why, did you?”

Bellamy takes his drink back from Clarke’s loose hands as he laughs. “Same,” he says, smoothing his hand over her hair. 

The party, as parties go, is pretty good. Their group is so insular Clarke doesn’t often get the chance to meet new people, and it’s refreshing, now and then, to hang out with people who don’t know her as completely and intimately as her friends do.

She loses track of Bellamy when Octavia reclaims her company for a ‘root tournament. She’s apparently bragged about their undefeated record to Nyko and his friends and a kid with a topknot who’s name Clarke completely misses challenges Octavia. From the way he’s looking at her, Clarke would bet he hasn’t been clued in about Lincoln. Poor boy, Clarke thinks smugly and sinks her ball in a direct toss into the cup right in front of him. His team makes a valiant effort, but they’re nowhere near as good as Clarke and Octavia are.

Octavia manages to be a mostly gracious winner about it and Clarke is racking their cups back up when Harper, Monroe’s roommate and the tall, willowy girl step up to the table. “You guys up for another game?” Harper asks with a smile. 

“Obviously,” Clarke says and Octavia smiles with her shark-like grin at them. “Good luck,” she chimes in.

Harper and her friend are surprisingly good and Clarke and Octavia only manage a narrow victory. The tall, dark haired girl gives Clarke a look every time she sinks a ball, hot and private and Clarke can’t help but smirk back. So she’s a bit of a flirt. Again: no one’s surprised by that.

After the game, the girl leans back against a low table and cocks an eyebrow at Clarke, inviting. “I’m Roma,” she says when Clarke joins her and hands her a conciliatory beer as she introduces herself. “Harper talks about you guys a lot.”

“How we invade her apartment and get obnoxiously drunk to stupid movies? She loves us, I’m sure.”

Roma laughs, throaty and full and gives Clarke an easy smile. “She made it sound more fun than obnoxious, I promise.”

“Well that’s good,” Clarke laughs as well and can’t help the flare of attraction for Roma, her easy smile and soft voice, the pretty, carefully plucked eyebrows. Clarke lets herself check her out for just a moment, knows Roma catches her.

“So, you with that guy?” Roma asks without any coyness, nodding her head vaguely in the direction of where Clarke and Bellamy had been sprawled together on the couch.

“Yep,” Clarke says, “more or less over a year now.” Roma nods like she had known, not shifting at all from the way she’s leaning casually toward Clarke. She smells nice, Clarke thinks, light and floral.

“Not open?” Roma asks lightly and Clarke shakes her head. 

“Nah, Bellamy and I are kind of it for each other,” Clarke admits, glancing over her shoulder when she hears Bellamy’s laugh from the kitchen and knows her smile goes a little stupid. 

“Well, if you guys are ever interested in adding a third for a night, you should hit me up,” Roma says and her smile is so genuine that Clarke lets herself imagine, just for a moment, Roma’s soft, scented skin under her lips: Bellamy’s large hands on her body.

“Thanks,” Clarke says and means it, because it’s a nice offer. 

Roma laughs again. “It’s not like it’d be a hardship, you’re both unfairly hot.”

“Well, same for you,” Clarke says and thinks about kissing Roma, thinks about Bellamy kissing her . She lets Roma put her number in her phone without any expectations and they chat for a while more, comfortable in each other’s space. Bellamy finds her there and gives Clarke a knowing, hot look.

“Hey,” he greets her and nods to Roma. “Bellamy,” he offers along with his hand. Roma takes it and gives it a firm shake, lips quirked.

“So I’ve heard. Roma,” she says and smiles at him, easy. “Well, it’s late. Clarke, you have my number. I hope I see you guys around.”

“You’re always welcome at movie nights,” Clarke says easily. “It was good to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Roma says and then stretches, a little luxuriously, and crosses the room, sending them a last look over her shoulder before she ducks into the kitchen in search of her friends.

“Huh,” Bellamy chuckles and lets Clarke wrap her arms around his neck, steadies her as she leans her weight into him, lazy. “Were you flirtin’, babe?”

“Oh, just a bit,” Clarke laughs and kisses Bellamy’s smile. “More like flirting for both of us. We’ve officially gotten our first threesome offer.”

“Yeah?” Bellamy laughs. “Why’d you let her leave?” he teases her even as he wraps his arms around her back and pulls her close, hands just a little possessive when he slips them under her shirt and strokes over her spine.

“Could you guys maybe not?” Octavia grouses, breezing past them. “I like not feeling ill when I look at Bellamy.”

“Sorry O,” Bellamy calls after her, not sounding it at all. “What do you think, Clarke? Wanna head out?” He gives her a little squeeze, a hot promise when his thumb dips into her jeans to follow the line of her hip bone.

“Yeah,” Clarke agrees, her stomach flipping. “I really do.”

They catch an Uber back to Bellamy’s place, and Clarke flops down onto his couch, hogging all the space and letting Bellamy manhandle her so he has room to join her, their legs tangled as he stretches out next to her. 

“What, the bed’s too far away?” he laughs as he sneaks his hand under her shirt to touch her stomach and Clarke tugs his head down so she can kiss him.

“Way too far away,” Clarke agrees. “I want you now.”

“I can relate,” Bellamy says easily, licking into her mouth and kissing Clarke slow and thorough, finding the line of her collarbone and running his fingers over it, just feeling her body under his hands. Clarke sighs into his mouth and hears Bellamy’s answering, contented sound as he lets her lips go and kisses down to her neck, mouthing at her wetly, making her shiver with his hot breath. 

“What do you think would have happened,” Bellamy mumbles after a moment, his lips catching against the sensitive skin of her neck. “If we’d brought that girl home?”

And Clarke has to laugh because god, that’s a thought, here alone with Bellamy, when talking about it with him makes the idea that much hotter. “I don’t know,” she admits. “We probably would have fucked her and then fucked each other again when she left.”

“Mmm,” Bellamy hums into her skin and Clarke wiggles closer to him on the couch, slings her legs over his and scratches at his stomach under his shirt. “That’s hot,” Bellamy muses. “That’s really hot.”

“Yeah?” Clarke teases him. But yeah, it is kind of hot, thinking about Roma with her long dark hair and pretty eyes and red lips between them to share. 

“You liked her,” Bellamy laughs as he sits up and wraps an arm under her back hauling her up. He kisses her, smile sharp under her mouth. “Did you think about it? Just for a second, babe. Did you think about what it would be like to eat her out?”

Clarke’s breath catches under Bellamy’s lips and she feels his smile widen. “You did, didn’t you?”

“Just for a minute,” Clarke admits, peeking at Bellamy through her eyelashes and he catches her, nuzzles at her face and drops sweet kisses across her cheek and jawline. There’s never been a question of jealousy between them, not seriously. Sometimes Bellamy likes to pretend to be because it gets Clarke hot when he gets possessive and handsy, but it’s just a game. There’s too much love and trust and in what they have to worry about any fleeting physical attraction to anyone else. 

“Yeah, she was hot,” Bellamy decides and catches Clarke’s earlobe between his teeth, bites down just hard enough that Clarke gasps and then he sucks at it, easing the sting with his tongue. “You think she’d eat you out too?” he murmurs and Clarke feels herself blush with the thought of it. 

“Yeah, she wanted to,” Clarke says, turning to catch Bellamy’s mouth again and he groans against her lips. He tugs at her hips until Clarke is straddling his lap and curls a hand around the back of her neck so he can keep her close and kiss her, all tongue and a hint of teeth, sloppy and good.

“I bet she did,” Bellamy says when he lets her catch her breath and begins to mouth at her collarbone instead. “She wanted to taste how sweet your cunt is, Clarke. I bet she wanted to see the way you get all pretty and pink when you come, huh? Did you think about that, babe? Her tongue on your clit?”

Clarke shakes her head, grinds down against Bellamy’s cock, hard and trapped in his jeans and he laughs. “No, but now you are, huh?” He pulls her hips down hard and cants his up against her. Clarke moans, drops her head back and lets Bellamy nip at her throat. “Yeah, now you are. I don’t blame you, babe, it’s fucking hot. Shit, stand up for me, huh? Stand up a second, Clarke.” 

He keeps his hands on her hips, steadies her as she scrambles off his lap and then he unbuttons her jeans and pulls them down her legs, squeezes her calf muscle, her thigh, as he drags his hands back up her legs. 

“Look at those legs, babe,” he murmurs, half distracted for a moment. “They go on and on. Shirt too, Clarke. Let’s get that off you.” He grins up at her as he slides his hands under her tee and makes her do the work of pulling it off, content to trail his fingers over her belly and the curve of her hips, eyes on her face. 

“Yeah,” he smirks when Clarke’s fingers linger at the clasp of her bra, teasing him. “That too. Good girl,” he murmurs when she lets her bra slide down her arms and Bellamy is at just the right height to lean forward and kiss her tits, drawing one of her nipples into his mouth and flicking it light with his tongue, biting when Clarke’s eyes fall closed. She jerks when his thumb finds her clit through her underwear and he works it slowly.

“Oh babe, love the way you look when you’re feeling good, huh? You wet?” He asks, pulling her panties to the side and setting his thumb firmer against her clit. “Yeah you are,” he chuckles and bites at the curve of her breast. Clarke has to grip his shoulders, her legs trembling a bit as Bellamy rubs at her certain and intense, not even teasing the way he normally does. 

“What got you this wet?” Bellamy asks slyly, cocking his head to look up at her.

“Thinking about- about her. And you,” Clarke whispers, stroking her fingers over his shoulders to card through the hair at the base of his skull the way he likes. “What it would be like to have both of you at once.”

“That’s what I thought,” Bellamy says, sounding smug. “We’d fuck her so good she wouldn’t know what hit her. Or would she and I fuck you?” When Clarke’s breath catches, Bellamy groans and drags his thumb from her clit to grip her hips again. “That what you want, babe?”

“Both. All of it,” Clarke whispers. “Bellamy, I want-”

“Come here,” Bellamy says, breath harsh and hot on her skin. “C’mere, Clarke. God, my gorgeous, greedy girl.” He tugs down her panties and pushes at her hips until he gets her to turn and then drags her back into his lap. He settles her comfortably against his chest and nuzzles his face into her neck. “Hey, babe,” he says, kissing her ear and wrapping his arm across her hips, keeping her anchored. “Close your eyes for me?”

Clarke shudders and lets her head tip back against Bellamy’s shoulder, turns to press her face into his neck as he trails his fingers along her thigh. “Ok, Bellamy,” she whispers right under his ear and feels him shiver, grip her tighter.

“So sweet,” Bellamy murmurs and then he hooks his hands under her knees and pulls her legs open, draping them outside of his own thighs as he widens them. Clarke shivers, spread open to the empty room.

“So I’m thinking,” Bellamy says hot and close, breath fanning over Clarke’s temple when he turns to growl softly into her hair. “I’d have you in my lap like this, huh? Hold you open so she- what was her name, Clarke?”

“Roma,” Clarke breathes.

“That’s right,” Bellamy chuckles lazily and rubs at Clarke’s stomach out of habit, affectionate. “So Roma could slide up right here, right between your legs, huh? So she could see the way your cunt is so nice and wet.”

“God, yeah.” Clarke murmurs, flexing her hips without any leverage, dying for Bellamy’s touch.

“You like that,” Bellamy chuckles. “Knew you would, sweet thing.” He’s stroking his fingers feather light where Clarke’s thigh meets her hip and Clarke whines a bit. “I know,” Bellamy agrees, smug. “She’d like to tease you like I do. Ask her, Clarke. Ask her for her mouth.”

Clarke mouths at Bellamy’s neck, tastes the musk of his cologne and the soft hint of sweat. “Please,” she whispers and Bellamy laughs, low. 

“Not me, Clarke,” he reminds her. “Ask Roma.”

Clarke half wants to strangle Bellamy, flushing, but it’s so hot, his low rumble against her back is so good that she can’t bring herself to call him on it. 

“Please, Roma,” Clarke whispers to Bellamy and he rewards her with a quick, hard grind of his thumb into her clit again, making Clarke arch before he steals his fingers away.

“Gotta ask her for what you want,” Bellamy tells Clarke, sounding like he’s fighting back laughter even as he slides his left hand up to play with her tits, trailing his fingers between them. 

“God, Bellamy,” Clarke complains, needy. “Ok, ok. Please, Roma, will you lick my clit?” 

“Oh, good girl,” Bellamy praises her, pleased, and slides his fingers up along her cunt so that when he reaches her clit, his fingers are wet and slick. He gives her long, slow touches, not rubbing circles like he usually does when he fingers her, but instead touching her in a light, flicking rhythm, like he might with his tongue, just warming her up. Clarke sighs at that, wishes she had the right angle to kiss Bellamy because he treats her so right. She settles instead for clutching his hip under her, thighs trembling over his legs as he doesn’t let up on her.

“Bellamy,” Clarke pants as his fingers stay sweet and light on her. “More?”

“You know who to ask, Clarke,” Bellamy says. She feels his hips flex under her, seeking pressure against her ass to grind his cock. Oh, but she wants that too.

“Roma,” Clarke stutters, “Oh god, Roma, please give me more.” Bellamy groans behind her and he flattens his fingers against her clit and rubs broad and hard over her. Clarke thrashes, gasping at the sweet intensity of it. “Oh please,” she whines.

“Yeah, Clarke,” Bellamy growls. “You like her eating you out? You like her mouth on your cunt?” He catches her clit lightly between his fingers and tugs, soft but sure. “You like the way she sucks your clit?”

“God, yes.” Clarke moans. “Oh god, it’s so good. Bellamy-”

“Roma,” he corrects her, biting her shoulder. “Roma’s getting you off, babe. Roma’s down on her knees being so good to you and all I’m doing is sitting here keeping you open for her.” He gathers more of her slick arousal on his fingers and returns to massaging her, giving her more pressure like he does with his tongue when he fucks her with it. “Don’t you want her to feel appreciated, Clarke?”

“Yes,” Clarke whines, too turned on to think straight, shivering at Bellamy’s words, at the picture he lays out, low and hot. Roma on her knees in front of Clarke, licking at her just the way she likes, tongue hot and firm and strong, and oh, that’s nice. Bellamy underneath her, behind her, with her and Clarke shivers. “Roma, that’s so good.”

“Oh fuck, yeah,” Bellamy murmurs behind her and vibrates his hand fast over her. “That’s so hot. She making you feel good?”

“Yeah,” Clarke pants. “God, Bellamy, she’s- she’s, fuck, she’s licking me just right.” Bellamy drops his forehead against her shoulder and swears. 

“Clarke, you want to ask her for her fingers?” He’s already teasing his fingers over her entrance, almost too impatient to keep up the game he’s playing. “Ask her for her fingers, babe.”

“Roma, can I have your fingers? Please will you finger fuck me?”

“Yeah she will,” Bellamy growls, pushing just one finger into her, the angle a little off as he reaches over her hip but it’s still so good. “Mm, she loves doing this to you, Clarke. She likes how wet you are for us.” He crooks his finger and rubs at her, making Clarke’s breath hitch and her toes curl into the coarse denim of his jeans. 

“That feels so good,” Clarke moans. She imagines looking down the line of her body, imagines seeing Roma looking back up at her and Bellamy while her mouth covers Clarke’s cunt and sucks at her, hot and perfect. Clarke shivers as Bellamy kisses the nape of her neck, teeth grazing her skin. “I love you,” Clarke whines, wanting him closer even as she’s draped indulgently across his body.

“Mm, love you too,” Bellamy murmurs right behind her ear, lips on her skin and she can feel his smile. “Do me a favor? Your tits look lonely, Clarke. Get your hands on them for me, ok? Get your hands on them and play with them the way you like.” 

Clarke manages to let go of Bellamy’s hip and slides her hands up her ribcage to her breasts, tugs on her nipples so that the sweet, sharp feeling sings down her body to her clit, makes it fuller and tighter under Bellamy’s fingers. “Oh,” Clarke moans at the combination of their hands, of the imagined girl between her legs. 

“Yes,” Bellamy snarls and his hips buck up under her. “Pinch them for me. Pinch your pretty tits, Clarke.” Clarke’s agreement is breathless as she tries to rock her ass back against Bellamy, hears him groan as she works her fingers over her nipples. “I’m doing that to you,” Bellamy whispers in her ear. “Those are my hands on your tits, helping Roma get you off.”

“Yeah, Bellamy,” Clarke gasps back. “You’re both taking care of me.”

“Damn right, we are. Ohh, babe,” Bellamy breaks off as he feels Clarke begin to tighten up, trembling and so wet. He slips her two more fingers sudden, giving her the stretch and fullness he knows she’s dying for. “Oh, babe. Good girl, that’s it. Let us make you come.”

“I’m so close,” Clarke whimpers, tipping her head back against Bellamy and hears him huff as he kisses her cheek, her cheekbone, her temple. “Tell me, tell me-”

“Fuck, you want to hear how much Roma likes this? She’s rubbing her clit, Clarke, just like you do when you suck me off. Yeah,” Bellamy drags out his encouragement on a long sigh as Clarke gasps high in her throat. “Yeah, she likes it so much, the way you taste. Come on, babe,” he whispers right in her ear. “You got it.”

Bellamy gives her clit a quick, light tap, just surprising enough to make Clarke jerk and when he returns to rubbing her sweetly and grinds his fingers up into her hard, Clarke’s back bows as she comes, stuttering over Bellamy’s name, hot, pulsing pleasure making her writhe and whine: hurt, pretty noises tripping from her lips. Bellamy stills his hand on her clit and just cups her cunt, his face tucked into her hair.

Clarke catches her breath as Bellamy’s lips trail lightly along the skin of her shoulder. She blinks her eyes open and he makes a quiet sound, gentle. “Not yet,” he murmurs, dragging wet fingers over her stomach to palm her breasts, replacing her hands that have fallen away. “Not done with you yet.”

“Shocking,” Clarke laughs but it turns into a broken stutter when Bellamy catches her nipples and rolls them between his fingers, slow and just rough enough that Clarke wants to let him stay there forever. “You’re still dressed,” Clarke says, turning her face into Bellamy’s throat, closing her eyes again. “I want to feel your skin, Bellamy.”

“Oh, pretty girl,” he rumbles at her as he kisses her forehead. “That what you want?”

“I think that’s what Roma wants too,” Clarke offers and likes that Bellamy jerks under her. He lets go of her tits and helps her lean forward, balancing her on his spread thighs as he pulls his shirt off and then pulls her back with an arm under her breasts so that she’s pressed into the hot skin of his chest. He hitches her up against him so he can work his belt and flies open and pushes down his jeans so when she resettles all she can feel is Bellamy.

“This what you wanted?” Bellamy asks her, stroking the skin over her ribs. 

“Yeah, you feel so good, Bellamy.” His skin is hot and smooth and the hair on his chest, his stomach, his thighs tickles Clarke’s soft skin.

“I feel good? You feel good, Clarke.” Bellamy’s hands roam over her body, fingers dragging hot trails of sensation that light up the darkness behind Clarke’s eyelids. She shivers under his touch and he hums gently, rubbing at that goosebumps on her arms. “What are we going to do with you next?” He wonders aloud as Clarke feels him slouch further behind her on the couch, shift under her and then something hot and hard rubs along her cunt.

“Oh, that,” Clarke begs him and Bellamy chuckles.

“What’s ‘that’, babe?” he asks her, right in her ear.

“It’s you,” Clarke whispers, flexing her hips forward to rub her clit against the head of Bellamy’s dick.

“Yeah, that’s my cock, Clarke,” Bellamy says and Clarke can hear the amused twist of his lips in his voice. “You want it?”

“Yes, please, give me your cock, Bellamy.”

“If I give you my cock,” Bellamy muses, still just rubbing it along her labia and clit, making Clarke wiggle in his lap. “What are we going to give to Roma?”

“You think,” Clarke wonders, reaching back to angle Bellamy’s head up so she can steal a kiss. “I’m going to leave her hanging? I’m going to take care of her while you fuck me.” Clarke promises against his mouth. She opens her eyes and catches Bellamy watching her, so close and hungry. “Give me your cock, Bellamy.”

“Fuck, Clarke. You know I like it when you get bossy. Here.” Bellamy gets the right angle and pushes just the head of his cock inside of her, groans as Clarke clenches purposefully around him, anxious for more.”Is that what you wanted?” He asks, holding her hips to keep her from rocking all the way down onto him.

“Yeah. No,” Clarke whines. “I want all of it, Bellamy.”

“Be sweet and ask me nicely,” Bellamy whispers into her neck and Clarke shivers.

“Please, Bellamy, oh please. Fuck me while I take care of Roma: while I eat her out,” Clarke manages and from Bellamy’s bitten off Fuck, and then sudden, fast thrust that fills her with his cock, Clarke knows he wasn’t expecting that.

“Clarke,” Bellamy groans. “Babe, you’re too much, I can’t stand it. You feel how wet you are on my cock? And always so fucking tight.”

“Yeah, Bellamy,” Clarke whines and grinds down on him. He’s already so deep inside her the movement just rocks him hard and perfect into her, makes her clit throb, her nipples tighten up sweetly and she drags his hands up to play with them, make good on his promise. “God, your hands.”

“Yeah, Clarke. There you go,” Bellamy breathws behind her, mouth hot at the nape of her neck, teeth set lightly into the bump of her vertebrae. He tugs on her nipples and Clarke rides down on him as much as she can. 

“We’d- we’d,” Clarke pants, trying to think. “We’d do this on your bed. You’d fuck me from behind, Bellamy, while I spread open Roma’s cunt and licked her.”

“Christ,” Bellamy growls. “Holy fuck, Clarke.”

“Yeah,” Clarke laughs breathlessly. “Yeah. But it’d be hard because you’d be fucking me so good. I’d have to- fuck, Bellamy,” Clarke whines as he tangles one hand in her hair to pull on it for her. “I’d just suck on her clit, give her my fingers. Couldn’t do anything more because you drive me crazy with your cock.”

“God, she’d love it,” Bellamy groans. “Your mouth is so sweet, Clarke. You’d make her come for us.” He twists one of her nipples viciously and Clarke shudders, leans forward to grip his thighs to steady herself, get more leverage to drop down onto Bellamy and get the hard, thick pressure of his dick right where she wants it.

“Yeah, yeah. And then,” Clarke says and the noise Bellamy makes behind her is half laughter, half disbelief. “I’d fuck her with my strap on. While you kept fucking me.”

Bellamy tugs her roughly back against his chest and he fucks up into her hard as he buries his groan into Clarke’s neck, the vibrations of it making Clarke’s stomach flip. “Strap on?” Bellamy chokes. “You have a strap on, babe? Why didn’t I know about this, Clarke? Jesus Christ, that is so hot.”

Clarke can barely reply, each hard snap of Bellamy’s hips knocking helpless, pleased noises from her mouth. “I’ll show you,” she manages. “God, Bellamy, harder.”

Instead of harder, Bellamy drags her up off his cock before he pulls her legs around so she’s facing him and jerks her back down onto him, making them both growl. He wraps his arms around her back, holding her close. “So goddamn unbelievable,” Bellamy growls against her mouth as he angles her chin for a kiss. “Goddamn, Clarke. Goddamn.” 

It’s hardly more than lips dragged across lips, teeth clicking and Clarke’s harsh breath mingling with Bellamy’s, but it’s so hot. Clarke bites Bellamy’s lower lip then sucks on it, clinging to Bellamy’s shoulders, curling her fingers into his hair to feel him close to her. Her clit rubs against him on every thrust and it drives her crazy.

“Keep going, babe.” Bellamy urges her. “Keeping giving me those pretty words, huh?” He presses his hand low on her belly as he grinds up into her and Clarke drops her head into Bellamy’s shoulder, shaking. When she gasps his name he hums at her, low and encouraging. 

“You’d fuck me into her,” Clarke manages. “Everything you did to me, she would feel. We’d take care of her, Bellamy.” 

“Fuck, Clarke,” Bellamy moans his hands clench hard into her hips, biting just right into her skin. He cranes up to kiss her again, lips desperate against her own, sucking at her tongue when Clarke slides it into his mouth. “Babe,” Bellamy pants. “Fuck.” Clarke scratches her nails down his back and Bellamy shudders, buries his face into the junction of her neck and shoulder. 

“Yeah, yeah, Bellamy. And then we’d take care of you.” Clarke says into his curls. “What do you think? Get you on your back and I’d ride you slow while you licked her cunt? I know you’d like that, Bellamy. I know that would make you come.”

“God, yes. Yes, Clarke,” Bellamy mumbles. He tugs her down onto him harder and bites rough on her skin. “Babe, you’d make me come.”

“Uh-huh,” Clarke promises. “Bellamy I am going to make you come. You feel so good, Bellamy. God, please, look at me.”

Bellamy’s head snaps up and he mouths at her chin, reaches for her mouth with his own as he pulls her hips down harder on his. Clarke catches his face in her hands and kisses him hard, leans into him so that everything is hot skin on hot skin, sweat and sex and Bellamy’s rich pine forest scent all Clarke can think about. Bellamy crushes her against him and doesn't let her reclaim an inch of space. 

“Come on,” Bellamy says, voice shot. “Clarke, I wanna see you come. Come on, beautiful. For me, huh?”

“God, yeah. For you, Bellamy,” Clarke whimpers and rests her forehead against his own. “Oh god, fuck me just like that.”

Bellamy does, grinds up into her right and hard and perfect, eyes hot and hungry on her face and Clarke shudders apart, knows she makes a noise that’s high and desperate and needy but Bellamy just swears, manages her name and drags her impossibly closer to him. 

He’s still hard inside her and the second Clarke can open her eyes, can feel her fingers again, she scrambles up and off him and slides down to sit between his spread thighs on the floor to get her mouth of his cock. He always tastes so good, but Clarke loves tasting herself on him too. 

“Clarke,” Bellamy whines. “You’re going to fucking kill me. Shit, babe. Your mouth. You’re fucking lips.” Clarke sucks at his cock and looks up at him as she drags her lips wet and sloppy across the head of his dick. His cock is flushed a deep, beautiful red and Clarke knows he’s close, barely holding back as he winds her hair around his fist and cups her jaw, strokes over the bulge of his cock in her cheek when she sucks him down again. When she lashes her tongue under the head of his cock and suckles lightly at the tip, Bellamy’s head falls back and he breathes her name, awed and reverent as he comes. 

Clarke licks him clean slowly, lets him begin to soften in her mouth as she gives him a few extra draws of her mouth just because she loves the feeling of his cock on her tongue. “Clarke,” Bellamy whispers. “God, Clarke. Come up here.” She looks up at him, still sucking lightly and sees his eyes warm and soft on her face, feels his fingers trace gently along her ear. She lets him go and he pulls her up, cradles her in his lap as he kisses her, gentle and sweet and a little lazy. “I love you,” he sighs into her and trails his hand down her body, runs it down her thigh and back up again. “So fucking much.”

“I know. I love you too,” Clarke whispers as she butts her nose against his cheek. “You’re all I want.”

“I know,” Bellamy says with a smile and gives her a peck. “You’re all sweaty,” he teases her. “How’d that happen?”

“I have no idea,” Clarke says dryly. “Must be overheated.”

“Mm, must be,” Bellamy agrees and presses his lips against her forehead. “We should probably shower.” Clarke shrugs and snuggles closer, curls her legs in so she can feel Bellamy completely holding her. 

“I’m hungry,” Clarke decides, idly tracing the sharp line of Bellamy’s jaw and he chuckles.

“Want a snack? Let me make you something.”

“Something sweet,” Clarke says and then unfurls herself from Bellamy’s lap, lets him steady her when she stands and her legs tremble ever so slightly. He presses a kiss into her lower back and then gives her a squeeze. 

“Shower and then snack,” he promises.

Bellamy joins Clarke in the shower, lets her lean against him, a little sleepy and weak under the warm water as they rinse off and leaves her to dry her hair as he putters in the kitchen. When she reemerges in one of Bellamy’s huge shirts, he’s got nutella toast waiting for her. He pulls her to lean back against his chest while she eats, hands wandering lazily, up and down her sides and over her stomach. Clarke can never finish the last few bites of toast, so she feeds it to Bellamy instead, lets him lick her fingers clean and nibble at her nails, playful.

“Sleep?” Clarke wonders after she turns to kiss the chocolate from the corner of Bellamy’s mouth and he laughs into her neck and nudges her towards his bedroom. Her phone is lit up with a few texts from Octavia and Raven, which Clarke taps out quick replies to. She sends a snap of her and Bellamy making funny faces to Octavia and then tugs off her shirt so she can cuddle up into Bellamy’s chest, his warm, dry skin sweet and perfect against her own. He strokes his fingers through her hair, working out the few snarls as she drifts off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr. I like to talk to people. Come [hang](http://verbam.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Comments and kudos always brighten my day and are much appreciated!


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